Four Minutes
by Raquedan
Summary: Max goes undercover with interesting results. No longer a one-shot. DaxisSteele has decided to continue it.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Set sometime between "Medium is the Message" and "Exposure". Absolutely, positively, unchangeably a one-shot…I mean it this time. Uhh…my first songfic, ever. It's not even really a songfic; it's a perfectly normal fic that happens to have a song in the background. The song, BTW, is "Touch It", by Monifah. Acb: here you go, almost no dialogue! Credit goes to Laurell K Hamilton for one of the lines, which I stole from her. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, they can try to guess which line, it isn't really that difficult.

* * *

_Yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Jack Knight and Dakoda House  
All we wanna do is make you bounce  
Monifah, could you turn me out?  
Show me what your thing is all about._

It was Logan who asked her to check the place out. Said it was something about Pierpont Lemkin and the Mayor making a killing in an unholy alliance with Satan. Or at least, that's what Max thinks he said; she stopped listening half-way through his impassioned rant about Lemkin, she's heard it about sixteen times in the last month.

It's a gentlemen's club that, apparently, doubles as a front for the fledgling Mafia wannabes that run this part of town. Max isn't happy about it, but she knows these guys could be trouble later, so she gets a part time job.

As a dancer.

_Do you really wanna touch it?  
Do you really wanna mess with me tonight?_

It's a pretty upscale place, so she figures nobody she knows is likely to come waltzing in one night when she's working. It should be safe enough as long as she keeps her barcode hidden, and she's helping Logan take down bad guys, something that brings back good memories of last year, before their lives got even crazier than she could possibly imagine.

Plus, the tips are great.

_Oh, and if you know how I like it  
Would you call my name and give it to me right?_

Tonight Max is wearing an outfit she borrowed from the only other dancer her size. It's a corset like thing in red pleather that leaves a two-inch gap up the center where it laces, and a skirt approximately the width of a large rubber band that zips up the side. Max pairs it with fishnets, because they've become her trademark. Given her touch-me-and-die attitude, she's surprised that she's actually become one of the more popular dancers. The boss is talking about giving her a raise and she makes more in tips four nights a week here than she does six days a week at Jam Pony.

She's thinking about buying herself a new motorcycle.

_Could you just put that thing on me?  
So I can just freak on you  
And you could just freak on me_

Max shimmies around the dancer on the pole in the middle of the bar, working her way over to her assigned station. Strut, strut, pause, pout, pose, shake something, keep walking, it's all a pattern, like a combat drill almost. By now she could do it with her eyes closed.

Eyes closed would probably have been better tonight: then she wouldn't have seen him. At least, she thinks she sees him, and she struggles to get her expression back under control and tries not to trip on the five inch stiletto boots she borrowed. Usually she's got perfect balance on these things; he's thrown her off.

Maybe she just imagined him. Why she would be thinking of him now is beyond her, but it's better than the alternative. She glances down the bar.

Nope. He's here. Sitting at the bar, watching her dance.

Well, fuck. That's just perfect.

_And I'm gon' give it to you all night long  
I'mma show your body what your lips are doing wrong  
Ooh_

What the hell is he doing here? Despite her abysmally low opinion of the man, she sorta doubts he spends a lot of his time in strip clubs.

He must have tracked her down. Dammit! Has someone tipped to her barcode?

He's sitting right in front of her station, like he planned it that way, He probably did; Max puts nothing past him. He's probably been watching her for a few nights.

Max pauses, dancing in place, completely ignoring the man slipping a twenty into her garter. What the hell is his game?

As if sensing her internal distress, he smiles slightly, and finishes off the rest of his scotch. Max has a momentary hope that he's leaving, but he taps the empty glass on the bar and the bartender fills it back up.

Max takes another twirling step toward her position, toward him, collecting tips as she moves down the bar. She doesn't think he's the sort of man to drink on the job

_Do you really wanna touch it?  
Do you really wanna fuck with me tonight?_

Maybe he isn't working. She still doesn't think he came here by accident, but maybe he isn't planning a takedown. She's not really sure what else he would be doing; he can't have come just to watch her strip.

At least, she fervently hopes he didn't; that would be too weird even for her life.

Maybe he just came to torment her; he seems to enjoy that kind of thing.

Max smiles with relief as the explanation comes to her. The man at her feet seems to think she's smiling at him, because he slides another bill into the waistband of her skirt. It's a five-dollar bill from the quick glance she gets of it; Max moves on, unimpressed.

Maybe she can have a little fun with this. See how far his iron self-control really extends.

The man raises one eyebrow as she stops in front of him. Max slides her hands down over her thighs and rotates her hips to the beat.

_Oh, and if you know how I like it  
Would you call my name and give it to me right?_

If she was hoping to get a reaction just from that, she's disappointed. All he does is smile and sip at the scotch without taking his eyes off her.

When she takes the skirt off to reveal the thong she has under it, his smile turns wicked. It does interesting things to the chiseled line of his jaw, and Max gives herself a mental kick for the thought.

A twenty-dollar bill materializes in his hand, and as she bends low to let him slip it into her thong, Max tries very hard to ignore the brush of his fingers against her hip. The idea here is to melt him, not to let herself melt.

_So love just feels so good to me  
Could you just move it on up cuz I want ecstasy_

She lets one of the laces on her top snap open, irrationally pleased by the flicker of heat in his eyes. She sways, head back, hands in the air. One of the other men nearby tucks a bill into her garter and she ignores him, focusing on the way the man in front of her swallows hard, his eyes bright and hot.

She lets a second lace snap as he casually holds out another twenty. She gets down on her knees to take it from him with her teeth, and as she watches his face from inches away, his eyes fill with that look a man gets when he knows you will not tell him no, no matter what he asks.

He hasn't earned that look, not yet.

_  
And I'mma give it to ya all night long  
I'mma show your body what your tongue's doing wrong  
Ooh_

Still on her knees, she reaches out, and wraps his tie around her hand, pulling him toward her. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he lets her tug him closer, and closer, until her lips are scant centimeters from his.

"Don't look at me like that," she breathes against his mouth, and she pushes him roughly back in his chair.

He's laughing softly when she rears upright, balancing on her knees, and runs her hands upward over her body, snapping another lace.

He stops laughing, and stares at her.

_Give it to me give it to me call my name  
This boy's shyness got me wet like crazy_

She gets back up on her feet, throwing her hips into the last few lines of the song. She's not sure why she's enjoying this, but she _definitely _is. This is easily the most fun she's had in weeks.

She can feel his eyes on her as the next-to-last lace goes. She stretches it out, she's not new at this, and she knows how to get the most out of a crowd of customers.

She holds the moment suspended, as she finds his eyes again, challenging him to look at her.

He just smiles back.

It's not a nice smile.

_  
I want it more and more  
When you call my name and spank me  
Ooh_

She snaps the last lacing and lets the top drop, feeling his eyes on her skin. For once, she glories in the sense of being watched, she'll wonder about what the hell is going on later.

The song is ending as she turns from her strut back to the dressing rooms to look at him.

_Do you really wanna touch it?  
Do you really wanna mess with me tonight?_

He's still at the bar, watching her as she walks away. They exchange a glance, neither of them knows what just happened, and neither of them wants to think about it.

_Oh, and if you know how I like it  
Would you call my name and give it to me right?_

He isn't working tonight, there aren't thirty armed federal agents in her dressing room, and he probably won't come back.

She doesn't know it, but she trusts the look he gives her.

_Touch it  
Touch me  
Love me  
Suck me  
Give me  
Baby, yeah_

By the time the song ends, he's disappeared, and the last four minutes might as well not have happened.

_If you know how I like it_

* * *

A/N: Okay, so if anyone doesn't get who the man was, you can certainly ask me. I don't promise not to make fun of you, but I will tell you if you just don't get it. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is DaxisSteele's continuation of my story. I never intended to make it a series, but she had an idea, so I let her continue it. I will forward all reviews to her.

* * *

She wasn't sure why she came back. The mission was over, Logan had his bad guy and she had no reason to subject herself to this humiliation, but the money was too good to turn away from the work.

Part of her knew that this was the last place she should be found considering the enemy let her walk out of here just twenty four hours ago. Despite logic, there was something drawing her back into that club, something primal.

The chance that he would return to find her again was an adrenaline rush in a sick and twisted way and after feeling dead so long a sliver of her soul needed that thrill.

She needed the seductive danger that he provided.

"Max, hey girl. They're playing your song."

She turned idly toward one of the other dancers. She hadn't bothered to ask their names and found it even less important now that she was no longer working for Logan. Asking their names would show interest and interest was something she was trying to avoid in this place.

It was wrong to be stooping to this level for the money, even for the rush, but she took seductive steps onto the stage none the less. Dozens of wolf whistles and callused comments flew from the audience, but her mind shifted them out of focus.

Her eyes were closed as she brushed her fingers along the metal pole running along the ceiling. She could feel him in the room; feel the thumping of his heart in time with the music. The knowledge sent a spike of adrenalin through her veins and she allowed a coy smile to dance across her sultry lips.

She swayed her way across the stage, dancing with the ghost of him rooted firmly in front of her. She could vaguely hear the gasps in the audience as the hands in her fantasy directed the blade in her hand to the straps of her corset.

Her eyes slid open like oily pools of seduction and she found him sitting right in front of her with the same amused expression he graced her with the previous night. Slowly the tip of the blade slid along her oil slicked skin as her body coiled and stretched like a cobra dancing to the pipers tune. The irony of the image wasn't lost on her.

She felt rather than saw him drift forward in his seat and she brought her lips close to the shell of his ear.

"Having fun 452?"

"Just reminding you of what you can never have." With laughter in her eyes, she straightened to full height and let the knife fly.

He was lucky that he wasn't as unaffected by her display as his comment seemed or the blade would have sliced through more than just the material of his trousers. With a smirk born of challenge, he watched her work her way back stage and fought the urge to return her forgotten blade with vengeance.

Impressed with the performance given his presence, he pulled out his cell and dialed a number. "She's not here." He snapped the phone closed and left the bar with an anticipatory bounce in his step.

Tonight was a perfect night for a chase.


End file.
